


Sun Rises and Mourning Comes (4x02)

by Zofiecfield



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Feelings, One Shot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:21:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25772740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zofiecfield/pseuds/Zofiecfield
Summary: Nicole is tempted to keep dreaming
Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	Sun Rises and Mourning Comes (4x02)

You’ve had this dream before. You’ve built a better world and lived in it a lifetime. Demons and struggle and fear still, but better. Better because she’s there, hand in yours.

  
And every time, as you are threading your fingers through her hair, or passing the platters at Christmas, or kissing the kids goodnight, every damn time, you wake. In this world. Without her. Without them. Every damn time.

  
All your senses tell you this time isn’t a dream. She’s solid and warm and the look in her eyes says everything you’ve been longing to hear. But common sense says you’ve done this all before. She’s been solid and warm. You’ve believed, fallen again and again for the dream. Fallen and landed, shattered.

  
Waking up is getting harder with each pass. Sitting bolt upright in bed in the dim dawn, clammy and shaking. You leave a thread of yourself in each dream. Each one takes a bit more of you, and you’re beginning to feel worn. Untethered.

  
Dreams asleep, but nightmares once woken.

  
The temptation to stay in the dream is a bitter knot you’ve begun to carry, hauling it around behind you, tucking it into bed beside you. You want it so badly, to be with her again, to have your family back. “Whatever it takes” is on your tongue all the time, but it isn’t true.

  
She’s a sacrifice you won’t make.

  
You can’t come untethered. You won’t give her up for the dream, however much your body pleads to lay down beside her and stay. Begs to sleep.

  
You can’t come untethered, because she’s coming home, and you’ll be waiting. Eyes open. No more dreams, no more waking.  
  
Yet, it nags at you. Even more than the last and the dozens before that, this dream seems so real. You can’t peer through the fabric of this one, no matter how hard you try to see the stitching.

  
You could trust it. You could trust this one. Trust her, again, but forever now, not just till morning.

  
You lean into her as she pulls you close. Her lips brush your forehead and you’re grieving the loss already. Palms sweaty and any moment, you’ll be alone again. She’ll be gone.

  
Her eyes make promises. Her fingers write them in careful script along your skin. They swear on leather-bound stacks that she’s real, you’re real, this is real. They plead with you to believe. One more time.

  
But the sun is rising, and you’ve fallen so many times.


End file.
